


Vicar of Tadfield

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Reupload of my Vicar of Dibley/Good omens fusion
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

The day began as it usually did, with the Reverend Ezra Fell noticing that the morning did the inevitable and came, and he had again spent the night reading. Not that the Reverend disliked sleep per se, but he had that weird feeling common in older people, which made sleep quite indistinguishable from death, so he slept only when it was absolutely necessary. Besides, there were always so many books to read, so many small and totally unimportant from the cosmic perspective problems his parishioners needed help with. The Reverend belonged to a rare and precious kind of people who knew that awe-inspiring complexity could be found in places as mundane and small as Tadfield. He would have never thought of himself like that, but his parishioners did. 

They were quite shocked to discover their new (it was ten years ago) vicar was openly and unashamedly gay, but they had loved him already, and he was sweet and kind, and actually only mentioned his orientation when someone tried to set him up on a date. He did it as it should be done, matter of factly, calmly. After all, he came from a family that had belonged to the clergy for literal ages, and the Fells would end up in trouble for their kind and liberal views each century. The Reverend Ezra Fell, so far, managed to avoid trouble and stay true to the family tradition of kindness and acceptance.

Therefore, when an old and unpleasant to everyone but the Reverend, Thomas Shadwell cried out each morning that "the Reverend is a sodomite," Ezra only smiled, asked the old and lonely man how he had been and whether there had been anything the Reverend could help him with. 

Madame Tracy, the owner of a lovely little bakery smiled at the Reverend and brought out his favourite croissants and per usual refused to accept any money from "her darling sweetheart of a vicar". 

Anathema Device, fierce young history teacher, enormously popular with both girls and boys, waved her hand and crossed the street to kiss her best friend on the cheek. Her fiance, a hopeless but adored for the sake of his brilliant wife-to-be physics teacher, crossed the street too, and managed to get hit by a bicycle. It happened more or less everyday and the vicar had a strong suspicion that Pepper, a favourite of Anathema's and Ezra's, did it on purpose to prove absolute worthlessness of one Newt Pulsifer, bespectacled shame of a male human.

Mr Tyler waved and made an honest effort to smile. He was respectable and retired, ever watchful of any trouble, like for example, curly blonde vicar who had managed to become everyone's most dear person, Mr Tyler included. He even tried to set him up on a date with someone, and the Reverend had to explain, patiently as ever, that being gay didn't imply he'd be happy to date anyone identifying as male. Mr Tyler still couldn't entirely accept the whole idea of being allowed to choose one's partner without parental blessing, listened, nodded and decided he liked the young man anyway.

Pepper's mother Frida caught up with her rebellious daughter and gave her a stern look. Frida was a professor of sociology, taught at Oxford, and decidedly never spoke of her husband or lack thereof. The Reverend had been the first person to never ask her about a Mr Frida, and when she thanked him for it, he said, "Oh my dear, I just never gave it a thought. You look happy and content, your daughter is a dear. Why should I think that there is or should be a Mr Frida? The only Mr Frida I do care about is Diego Rivera."

There was a nice family of Pepper's best friend Adam Young. Adam was a curious young man, and the Reverend rather liked talking to him. The boy could always help him out with a sermon, which of course he didn't need to know, but Adam's couldn't have possibly known that an off hand remark could lead his absolutely, unabashedly, concretely favourite adult in the world to some impressive theological musings. 

There were other people in the village of Tadfield, and however important and interesting, all of them were immediately forgotten when the Reverend discovered that a nice little cottage just a few houses down the street from the church had been sold. The rumour had it that it was a Londoner. So far the only thing the Reverend could see was a vintage Bentley, rather unashamedly taking up a good portion of the narrow street. A Londoner, and an extravagant one.

The day went on as usual, with many a small problem solved and a lot more left unsolved, and the vicar tended to concentrate on the unsolved. Right now the most unsolvable problem was finding any of Thomas Shadwell's family. Understandably, the ones Ezra and the social worker had tracked down didn't want anything to do with the old man, and the vicar had surprisingly run out of words to persuade them otherwise, which only meant that sooner or later someone would find Shadwell drunk, dead and in some terrible place. Mr Tyler used to lead an entire campaign against Shadwell. The campaign was led and operated by Mr Tyler singlehandedly. He was the only one in it anyway, but had a talent for making a lot of noise.

Buried in those thoughts and a cup of cocoa, that was how Anathema found her friend in the evening.

"Reverend, what the hell? Are you sulking?"

"My dear, I'm very sorry. Did you have to knock a lot?"

"I let myself in. This is God's house, all are welcome."

"Actually, this is my house…"

"And you are total badass angel. Anyway, I had an idea."

"Always scares me when you do, Anathema. Cocoa?"

"Oh, I'd love some, thank you!"

"So, what idea did you have?" asked Ezra from his cozy kitchen, where every Sunday he prepared the most scrumptious breakfasts for Anathema and Newt.

"Let's introduce ourselves to that towny bastard that came to ruin our quiet provincial life."

"I wouldn't use such words, my dear," Ezra brought her cocoa.

"I would. This is what he is and what he does."

"You haven't met him yet."

"I've met his bloody car."

"I think we indeed should walk down to his house and introduce ourselves and be perfectly polite and friendly. I have serious doubts he'll attend the Sunday services."

"Do you insist on being friendly and polite?"

"Yes, my dear. At least let's face this challenge of being perfectly social towards someone we don't know."

Anathema could never argue with Ezra for long.

They walked down to the house and the Bentley and knocked.

They knocked again.

"Maybe you were right, my dear…"

The door opened, and out of the door and into the Reverend Ezra Fell's dreams stepped a lean, tall man with red hair and for some reason, sunglasses. He smiled, blindingly.

"Evening. How may I help?"

"Your car…" began Anathema, but was cut off by the Divine hand, or rather the hand of the vicar who dug his fingers into her arm. Anathema was quick and kind. So she changed her tone.

"You car…" she began again, softly.

"I know, terribly sorry, I'll park her somewhere else, it's just that she doesn't enter my bloody shame of a gate… would you like to come in? It's such a mess, I wouldn't mind, if you steal something. Wouldn't notice even.

Anathema walked inside, the Reverend kept standing.

"Oi, come," she nudged her lovestruck friend.

Inside everything was… it was a rainforest. A labyrinth of pots, in all shapes and sizes, luscious greenery, spotless, glistening. It was Eden, in the humble opinion of one vicar.

"Somewhere in here there must be a sofa… if you find it, feel free to use it, but please tell me where it is."

Anathema managed to find the sofa rather quickly and dragged the Reverend with her. Their host followed.

"So, besides my rude car, to what do I owe the honour? I'm Anthony, by the way."

"I'm Anathema, this is Ezra," said Anathema.

"Hi. So… are we… neighbours?"

"Yes, quite," the vicar finally breathed in enough air to form some words.

Anthony smiled at him, specifically at him, which was nothing special really, they were neighbours after all.

"I mean, I'm more or less your neighbour, and Anathema, she's not."

"What brought you here?" asked Anathema.

"Oh, I… decided I wanted some place calmer and greener than London."

Ezra suddenly noticed a box of books, which greatly refreshed him.

"You read?" he asked. So smart, he thought, so observing, such a stupid vicar.

"I do, every now and then. Mostly algebra and astronomy. What do you read?"

"Anything," the Reverend breathed out and forgot to breathe in.

"I've been reading Marilynne Robinson lately," he decided to add.

"Oh, I love her!" said Anthony. He was still standing, if that slouching pose could be called standing. He was either a snake or molten gold. Or a golden snake. Which didn't justify the use of "either". 

"Is she any good?" asked Anathema, suspicion in her voice.

"Oh, I told you, my dear, she is absolutely remarkable."

"She is indeed," agreed Anthony.

"So… we really just wanted to welcome you in the community," said Ezra and got up.

"That's very nice of you," answered Anthony with a bow. He decided to look at nothing else but a total blonde mess in front of him. Anathema smiled so widely, it hurt her cheeks.

"Why the glasses?" she asked.

"Oh, sensitive to light," replied Anthony without taking his hidden (or not so hidden, judging by its direction) gaze of off the vicar.

"So sorry to hear that," muttered the Reverend reverently.

"Yes, Ezra here is sensitive to a cake and a couple dozens of croissants, and it shows, doesn't it?" Anathema never made fun of Ezra before, but she was so happy for her friend she forgot everything.

"It absolutely doesn't. I'll remember it," said Anthony quietly and smiled blindingly, again.

"You must never smile like that. You must never smile like that at anyone," mouthed Ezra.

"Thomas Mann. Love him, too."

"What's your favourite?" asked Ezra in a relatively normal voice.

"Lotte in Weimar."

"Mine, too."

"Alright then, we should let you rest and suchlike, good night."

Anathema stood up.

"If you need any help," began the vicar, now in absolutely normal voice.

"I'd never think of bothering anyone," smiled Anthony. He had been smiling already, he just added more light to it.

"Good night, Anthony," whispered Ezra and followed his friend out. 

"Ok, either you ask him out or I ask him out for you," said Anathema once they were outside.

Then she left. And Ezra stood in the middle of the street, happy as he had never been before.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning came again, because it had no manners. Morning meant going out and let everyone see that the Reverend Ezra Fell was glowing. Anathema must have talked too, the dear she was.

So Ezra did his best to put on the most serene face he could, which was not serene at all. He walked out of his house, trying his best not to dance. He greeted everyone, and everyone greeted him. He gave Shadwell a hug, a sodomite that he was, a wretched sinner, etc, etc. He stopped Pepper from clashing with Newt because he was crossing the street and she drove right into his hip and spent about an hour apologising. Adam came running with a pack of ice, and one Anthony, sharp, sauntering, swaying like a pendulum walked out of Madame Tracy's bakery with a cup of coffee. 

"Hell, are you alright?" he pushed away the kids and helped the vicar, who he still didn't know was a and the vicar, to his feet.

"Yes, yes, quite. No need to fuss."

He adjusted his clothes and looked up at Anthony. Anthony smiled, his smile so sharp and tender, the Reverend was sinning by just looking at him.

"Sodomite!" shouted Shadwell, and Anthony cringed.

"That would be me," smiled Ezra.

"What an asshole," said Anthony through his teeth.

"He is, right?" agreed Pepper and looked at Anthony adoringly.

"Smart girl, have my breakfast," said Anthony and gave Pepper his paper bag.

"Oh, wow, Adam, I've got blueberry muffins!"

Adam and Pepper went on their way, chewing and chuttering, Pepper holding her bike and Adam riding it.

"You shouldn't have," said Ezra, who appreciated a good breakfast.

"Well, now you'll have to buy me another," smirked Anthony and walked back into the bakery.

They sat there in silence, both eating and trying to steal a glance here and there, and obviously lifting their eyes exactly the moment the other lifted them.

"So, Ezra, tell me about this village."

"It's quiet and nice and cozy. I've been here for ten years and intend to spend at least another ten."

"Really? What do you do?"

The bell chimed, Mr Tyler walked in and approvingly nodded at the pair in the corner.

"Hello there, you must be new. I'm Mr Tyler. Glad you began by getting to know our vicar. Religious young men are scarce," and Mr Tyler walked away.

"A vicar? The vicar? The openly gay vicar who was the only reason I chose that place? Wow, that's some… I don't know, Ineffable plan."

Ezra laughed.

"Yes, that's me. What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm an accountant, Reverend."

"Only Anathema calls me that."

"Well, could I join her?"

"Of course you could. Are you going to spend all the time here?"

"Of course. I'm a partner, I do whatever I want, and I want to work from home and yell at my plants every half an hour."

"Yell at them? Why? They are so… beautiful!"

"Yes, and to stay that way they need discipline!"

"Oh… well… I kill every growing thing on sight, so I trust your expertise."

"You know, by the look of it, you are the only sane person in this village. Care for a grab of supper tonight?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"You're a famed glutton, Reverend. I don't like food that much, but anything for a normal conversation."

"That's very kind of you."

"Is it a yes?"

"It's not a no."

"Good enough for me. If it's a yes, then pick me up at seven. If no, then I'll spend the evening watching some wildlife documentary."

With that, Anthony left.

Then returned.

"It's Crowley, by the way. My surname. Just so you know. I know yours. I like it."

The vicar absolutely didn't spend the rest of the day thinking about becoming the Reverend Crowley-Fell.

He picked up Anthony at seven and they went to the only pub in the village for "a grab of supper".

"I have some very good wine back at my place. You seem to dislike the beer…"

"I hate beer. Wine's good. Wanna take the bottle and go to my house? I sorted it, I want you to see it."

"Sounds great."

In the end they stayed at Ezra's house, because Anthony wouldn't stop cooing how cozy and lovely it was. And Ezra totally didn't imagine that red head on his pillow, mouth open wide, lips red and swollen.

It was well past midnight when Ezra said, "Obviously, I can't ask you to stay. I'm a vicar, and I'm presumptuous. And ridiculous. But…"

"What are the rules then, Reverend?"

"Well, first date just talking, second date hand holding, third date French kissing."

"Define date, Reverend."

"Seeing each other on purpose."

"Then if I want to borrow some sugar, it might be a date."

"In my books, totally."

"Alright then. So, may I consider this our first date?"

"You absolutely may."

"Great. See you around, Reverend," and the door closed behind him.

The vicar kept staring at that door. Kept thinking about Anthony in his bed. Kept thinking about how nothing had ever made any sense, because he had never been whole before that serpent of a man stepped out of his door.

There was a knock.

Ezra opened the door. 

"So, I'm here on purpose. I see you, you see me. Give me your hand," said Anthony.

Ezra was far too shocked, so Anthony took the liberty of holding the Reverend's hand.

"Good night, then," he lifted Ezra's hand to his lips and softly kissed his knuckles.

Then he walked away.

Ezra couldn't bring himself to close the door.

Anthony sharply turned on his heels and came back.

"Again, I'm here on purpose, I see you and you see me. Can I have my French kiss?"

Ezra pulled him by the collar and kissed him, hungrily, desperately, lovingly. It should have never ended. In Ezra's mind they had been married for years and had three or four or five wonderful children. In Ezra's mind he was loved and desired and loved and desired too. He wanted to be the more loving one. He wanted to cherish every moment with Anthony, and other than that, nothing mattered.

"Listen…" Anthony broke the kiss and clashed his forehead with Ezra's.

"Listening, my dear," Ezra cupped his cheek softly with his hand.

"I'm… I don't want to play with you, and I know it's very, very fast and you are a vicar…"

"You are rambling, Anthony. What is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing, Reverend. Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"I swear. I won't be able to spend much time without seeing you."

"Neither will I. Good night, Anthony."

"Good night, Reverend."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day was Sunday. 

The Reverend Ezra Fell was on fire. 

He gave his best sermon in years, his learning, his knowledge shining through simple words. He hadn't felt so inspired since his very first sermon. He was reminded - and reminded everyone in attendance - how much good there was in the world. How grateful he, personally, was for the sunrise, for the soft rustle of leaves on their many trees, for their breakfast, for their coming on that most glorious of the mornings. 

Well, all of that with an unhealthy amount of quotes from every book he wanted to insert in his speech. He was in love, he was sure he was loved, and his love sat somewhere far from him, sunglasses and red hair.

The best praise, though, came from Pepper and Adam and their less memorable friends, who jumped around the vicar and screamed that he had been so impossibly cool. Ezra was proud of himself. He was proud of Anthony, who everyone of the Them, as they called themselves, gave a high five to, who every person in attendance gave a meaningful nod to. Because he was indeed the most important and beautiful person in the whole world. The sum of God's glory and grace. 

"You know, Reverend, I felt in Gilead today. Thank you."

"Gilead?"

"Marilynne Robinson's Gilead. I walked in, I saw you, I heard you, and oh, what do I have to do to listen to you forever?"

"I hope you don't have the same amount of pain, though."

"No pain, Reverend. Nothing of the kind. Wanna have lunch with me?"

They had lunch at Anthony's place. They kissed again, and again, and again. 

Then, the next morning, Anthony came by the church with someone tall and fit and handsome.

"Hello, I'm Gabriel, sure, Anthony hasn't mentioned me, like ever," said Gabriel, the smartest and smugest of smiles on his face.

"No, he hasn't."

"Typical Anthony. Well, he never shuts up about you."

"Come one, Gabe, we have a lot to talk about. That's why I called you."

Gabriel gave the vicar a wicked wink and followed Anthony.

Ezra was… heartbroken? No, it wasn't the word. He felt empty. Useless. Soft. Stupid.

Of course someone like Anthony could never really like him, let alone love him.

He went home, buried himself in chocolate and terribly boring holy fathers.

He was studious, he wrote sermons for eight Sundays, he sorted his paperwork, he talked to the social worker about Shadwell and any opportunities there were for him to get help. He helped Adam with his homework. He helped Pepper with hers. He helped Anathema grade the papers she had been supposed to grade two weeks before. He stopped Anathema from cursing Anthony and condemning him to eternal torture. He let Anathema hold him and listened when she assured him that he'd find someone better. He let Me Tyler call him and say that nobody in the world deserved their perfect vicar. 

It was late, and he couldn't sleep. 

There was a knock. Another. More persistent knocking, so Ezra decided to open the door.

"I gave it a lot of thought, and I want you to marry me. What say you?"

"Alright," said the vicar warily and walked back into his sitting room which doubled (tripled?) as his library and study.

"When?"

"Uhm… I didn't think about it. What do you think, Reverend?"

"Christmas is always great."

"So, somewhere around Christmas."

"Done. What is the name of a gentleman in question?"

He hated himself. He could never hate Anthony. Anthony was beautiful and funny and tender. 

"Well, I don't know his middle name…"

"Anthony, you really shouldn't marry someone whose name you don't know."

"Ok… so… it's Ezra…"

"Ezra…" wrote Ezra.

"Fell," added Anthony, smiling.

"Fell," wrote Ezra Fell and suddenly turned around.

"Ezra Fell," said Anthony as if he was praying.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Ezra Fell, the most remarkable, most beautiful, most wonderful creature in the world, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and agree to marry an accountant?"

Ezra shrieked. Then shrieked again. Then stood up and shrieked some more.

Anthony bit on his lip trying not to laugh.

"It.. what… what about that handsome bloke… Gabriel…"

"Gabriel?! Gabriel is my brother. He is a total wanker, but I didn't know who to talk to, so I called him. He said he had never seen me so stupid, and I presumed that it would be entirely reasonable to marry you. Oh, Ezra, I loved you the moment I saw you, you ineffable dandelion! Will you marry me? Please, I swear, I'll do anything to make you happy. I'll stop yelling at my plants, if you like. I'll learn to make crepes."

"Shut it…"

"Ezra…"

"Shut it, Anthony. I love you. I thought you were… fornicating with your own brother. I don't deserve you."

"You, Reverend, deserve someone better, but… but I love you. I want to marry you. I want to be a Crowley-Fell. I want to adopt a dozen of children so there are more Crowley-Fells in the world. I love you so much…"

"You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious."

"Then stop laughing."

"I can't, Reverend, I'm in love, I'm so happy. You make me so happy. Will you marry me?"

"I just booked us a date."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's the most definite yes in my life. Could we go to bed now?"

"Oh, wicked, lascivious Reverend. Take me to bed, now." 


	4. Chapter 4

They had been married for ten blissful years. They had four children Anthony insisted on calling the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. The four horsemen insisted on calling Anthony "daddy" and Ezra "father", and only "father". They would wake Ezra in the morning with "our heavenly father who is asleep, awaken and make us breakfast".

It was customary to say that one loved one's spouse just as much as on the first day of marriage, but it was untrue. Ezra loved Anthony more each day, and it was mutual. Ezra practically drowned in his husband's love, in his attention. Gabriel, the mighty wanker, cried like a baby during their wedding and then at every christening. 

Anathema was the godmother to all four of course. 

Madame Tracy began making gluten free croissants when it turned out that the young Anathema, their first, was allergic to gluten.

Shadwell became much more timid when faced with four ineffable Crowley-Fells, as naughty as hell, as lovely as their fathers, as clever as Anathema and Adam and Pepper combined.

The Reverend Fell's sermons were absolutely brilliant every bloody week. 

Their small house was full of laughter and laundry and cleaning and happiness. Full of Gabriel's inappropriate presents (who would give a motorcycle to a two-year-old girl?). Full of Anathema's passionate history lectures and Newt's unintelligible lectures on the second law of thermodynamics.

There was so much love, so much joy. Anthony of course turned out to be the more loving one, the one who made Ezra his cocoa and massaged his shoulders and kissed his feet. The one who just couldn't get enough of Ezra's kisses and softness. The one to become a stay at home dad without any other obligations than to raise his and Ezra's children as mischievous and graceful as only Anthony could have been.

There was so much happiness in the village of Tadfield that every child returned there in the end.

"We have guardian angels, we really do," they would tell their partners.

And behold, it was good.

It was so good, that time would stop, wouldn't dare to touch the kindest and gentlest of the clergymen and his besotted husband, and their funny and loving children. 

They were as happy as it could get. They were the very definition of happiness, Ezra and Anthony Crowley-Fell. The vicar and the accountant.


End file.
